Fading Dreams
by Rissi-Sama
Summary: Yumi's reflections on her life and childhood during the last days of Shishio's life
1. Default Chapter

A/N: This fic was co written by me (Rissi Sama) and her good buddy Hssu (Hikitori Sunny Side up)  
  
Fading Dreams: Frozen Beginnings  
  
~ Yumi's POV, the night before Shishio's fight with Kenshin~  
  
"Yumi," my Lord Shishio's strong voice asked of me, calling my attention from his bandages that had fallen into disrepair over the last several hours. I looked up to his face, scared and bandaged, but still beautiful to me.  
  
"Yes, Lord Shishio." I answered him. He, with harshness in his voice, not entirely new to me, commanded,  
  
" After you've finished repairing my bandages you can retire." That was not a request, nor was it a suggestion; it was a command, issued by the man who, in my mind, was to be the next dictator of Japan.  
  
"Yes, Lord Shishio." I curtly said, attempting to disguise the disappointment etched in my voice. His demonic eyes searched my own, and I could tell from his expression my face had given away what I attempted to conceal from his ears.  
  
"Don't lie to me, Yumi. You are not a liar, and I am not a fool." He said softly as he stroked my cheek with his gloved hand. I nodded, disgraced, but also irritated. While I loved Shishio, beyond that any mortal could possibly imagine, I could not bear to be just the one to comfort him, and to repair his ripped bandages. To be truthful, I wanted to make a difference in his life, but that was an unspoken truth Shishio knew to be true. He gently lowered his lips to my ear, and whispered,  
  
" I'm so sorry, Yumi, but you must go regardless, I have an important meeting to attend to." I nodded, bestowed a kiss gently on his cheek, bandaged and burned, and left main hall to sit idly in the room Shishio and I shared.  
  
It had always been like this, and I had grown used to this feeling of self- resentment. A chambermaid, the same one that tended to me when I still was a consort, knew me all too well and said, with a look of concern in her deep brown eyes,  
  
"What ails thee, milady?" I shook my head and said nothing to her. I was far too introspective to speak. I sat at my regal vanity, worthy of a Shogun's wife, and picked a jade comb through my purplish-red hair. Through out my experience as consort, my odd hair color was dyed black, to please the pompous men that entreated upon my services. The chambermaid bowed, and left the room, to her own chambers in the servants' quarters, I presume. I gaze endlessly at my reflection in the intricate mirror. My mind drifted into an unknown spectrum as I absently pondered.  
  
"This face entertained so many." I said aloud. I couldn't help but think, what if I never was a consort, what would I be doing now? That question was the same as asking if the world hadn't changed, and the Shogun had not fallen to the rebellious Meji. I felt my eyelids grow heavy, as my mind drifted into the beginning of my journey towards Lord Shishio.  
  
Kyoto, 1860  
  
Snow blew relentlessly on the ruins of Kyoto, the fires that had destroyed a greater part of the large and condensed city left many citizens homeless. The small fires that remained unquenched helped those homeless citizens warm in the growing snows of winter. However, in the high end of town another form of fire occurred. Houses of prominent samurai were continuously being looted. Innocent's fell prey to hostile blades if they tried to defend their property. All the victims of this looting could do was watch as their possessions were stolen and homes were burnt.  
  
Huddled in a small corner of what once stood as a house a young woman and her small, beautiful daughter clung to life. The looters sneered evilly as they saw the mother encase herself and her child within a thin and ragged blanket.  
  
"Feh!" one of the bandits exclaimed, "how does it feel to be cold wench!" He taunted, as he threateningly approached the young woman and her daughter. He aimed and squarely kicked the mother in the stomach. She doubled over but did not let go of her daughter, who she protected with her very life. The bandit aimed to kick the woman again, but was stopped by his friend, who spoke with compassion,  
  
" Leave them alone, they have enough to worry about with the cold, Kakeda." Kakeda snorted and walked off. The compassionate friend, before he left he stole a glance at the young woman and her daughter, clinging to the very life which bound them to this world. He smiled as he heard the young woman sing a sweet and comforting tune to her daughter, who no longer wept, for she was past crying. The kind song seemed to have soothed the girl, and the man departed.  
  
The flames had been quenched. All that remained of them were their greasy, black ashes, damp with the morning's dew. Their sickly image burned deeply into the souls of the villagers. The wind was but a rustle that drew breath and died. In this way life would begin again.  
  
The small girl lay tucked away in her mother's arms. Long, dirty hair spilled out over soft features, pale and cold. But dawn's icy breath swept over them; she shivered at the sudden chill. Her mother did not move. The girl's eyelids fluttered open revealing sensuous and dark brown eyes. The sun had not risen, but billowing clouds danced across the sky. Certainly they would stifle his warm, smiling face.  
  
Heaving a sigh, she pulled herself into a position that brought her more comfort and warmth, as snuggled back into the warmth of her mother's arms. They were cold like stone nipped by a sudden frost. Startled, the girl pulled suddenly away from her mother's frozen and still form. She glanced fervently at her mothers still form for any signs of life.  
  
"O-Okaasan?" she asked. Her mother did not answer, instead a  
tormenting silence made itself known. The girl called again, and heard  
no answer. Her world fell away from her, and all things familiar and  
good disappeared, she was lost. The snow continued to blow  
relentlessly as the lonely young girl fell into unconsciousness, as  
she held onto what little life she had. Visions swam before the girl's  
eyes, visions of sun and snow, cobbled streets and her home. She saw  
her mother's bright, grinning face, and then the horror of her  
mother's cold frostbitten face. In her closed palm lay a small china  
doll, its painted face already beginning to crack from the cold.  
  
In the growing light of dawn, a thin and lanky man strode proudly down the street. He grinned as he saw the cinders from now destroyed homes litter the pure snow. The man shivered slightly and drew his wool coat around his shoulders, for his fine western clothing did little to keep him warm. His clean cut hair gleamed greasily as his mind wandered to all the money he gained from the looting of these homes. Many prosperous samurai once lived there, and he was sure that those homes held many valuables centuries old. The sight of one disintegrating, but still standing house frame caught his eye. He swiftly turned to further examine the house frame and saw two figures huddled in the small remaining corner. While he was no Good Samaritan, he was the least bit curious at such a bizarre sight. He warily approached the huddled figures. He noticed the position, and felt a wave of pity flow over him, as he saw the mother, obviously dead, still protecting her daughter even in death. The girl's eyes fluttered open as he inquired kindly,  
  
"Girl, why are you out in this dreadful cold?" The girl could only stare into his deep blue eyes. They seemed like rays of sunshine sparkling through the dense gloom that filled the streets. The man heaved a sigh, and in a kind voice asked,   
  
"What is your name?" She was terribly frightened and found it difficult to conjure up words, but his eyes were so kind and reassuring, they convinced her to be brave.   
  
"K-Komogata Yumi," the girl nervously stuttered.  
"I am Damasu Kizoku," he said with a smile.  
The girl felt within her wounded heart she could trust this stranger. His eyes seemed to be those of a good, righteous man. But despite all of his kindness, Yumi could see no soul in his eyes. This puzzled her; for once her mother told her a person's soul peered out from their eyes as if they were windows. Though no soul peered, the girl pushed aside any doubt in her mind; they would only be a burden, nothing more.   
Damasu Kizoku stood before the little girl and her mother, an expression of deep thought carved into his face. Though Yumi was still full of life, the woman was a frozen corpse. Her deed was apparent. He thought lecherously  
  
'Her lips...so blue and frost-bitten...how I should have loved dearly to lay my own upon them and set them with a kiss.... And I suppose, someday, her daughter will bear resemblance to her.... '  
  
"Where is your father?" he asked compassionately.  
"He died...long ago.... I don't remember him well...." Tears stung Yumi's eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks. "He left for war and never came back. They say...he was slaughtered in battle." The girl's silent crying turned quickly to sobbing as she buried herself in her mother's arms once more, knowing no warmth would arise, but still living with the vain hope. Finally, she gave up and admitted. "And now mother is...is.... dead"   
Though Kizoku's face was somber, his eyes danced brightly in their sockets.   
  
"Yumi...come, come with me. I can help you, and give you shelter." Yumi looked into his face; into his eyes that burned so deeply with compassion. She could trust him. He, only he could help her. With her hand shaking, she held his hand tightly, and allowed herself to be lifted to her feet. They walked together down the cobbled street; Yumi stole a glance back at her mother's frozen corpse. She never saw her mother again.  
  
~ Back in 'present day', 'present location'~  
  
I am awakened from my eventful sleep by a light tap on my shoulder. My heart flutters at the prospect of Shishio wishing to speak to me. However reality sets in as both of my brown eyes open to meet the ever-smiling face of Shishio's young manservant, Soujiro. I mentally berate myself for even daring to hope that Shishio would ever find practical use for me in matters besides his torn bandages that grace his burnt body.  
  
"Yumi-san, Lord Shishio wished for me to tell you of your current duties regarding tomorrows fight with Himura the Battousi." The mere mention of being useful sets a small smile on my green lips. I nod gracefully for Soujiro to continue, and state my duties so I know how best to aid Shishio. Soujiro obliges me in his usually cheerful manner,  
  
"Lord Shishio states that you are to lead Himura the Battousi and his companions through the Labyrinth, where they will fight the best of the Juppongattana. If Himura the Battousi survives, you will have the honor of standing at Lord Shishio's right hand when he meets the Battousi, but no more." This order was not all that I had hoped for, but it does go beyond nursing, so I feel no need to complain to an unfeeling little boy like Soujiro. Soujiro signature, and irritating grin again overtakes his entire face, as he bids me good-bye. I feel hurt that Shishio had nothing to say to me personally, regardless of it being through a buffer like Soujiro, whose skills at recognizing affection is seemingly as daft as a eunuch. The swishing of Soujiro's navy-blue Hakama pants resumes as he walks toward the doors, but he, again, turns around and respectfully walks toward me, he says to my kindly, his eyes almost understanding,  
  
"Gomen Yumi-san, Lord Shishio also wanted me to inform you that while he does desire to retire with you tonight, he fears his business with Himura the Battousi tomorrow will preoccupy him and he will most surely come in late. He insists that you do not stress yourself so much, as to wait for his arrival." I nod, again, berating myself for expecting a full-fledged apology from Shishio, who always acts out of logic, and his law of nature. The swishing of Hakama pants resumes, and Soujiro exits the room.  
  
My chambermaid, Tantamae, who has returned to prepare me for bed, smiles reassuringly as she notes the sad look that has seemed to encompass every inch of my face. And she assists me as I dress for bed.  
  
'Only if Shishio saw me as I wish to be seen,' I mourn in my thoughts.  
  
"Milady," Tantamae soothes," It's going to be all right. He'll come." I cannot help but smile at how well Tantamae knows me, but what she is so certain about I am not. This, as far as I know could be my Shishio's last night on earth, for Himura the Battousi is at heart a fighter, like my Shishio is, and I feel a certain sense of foreboding as I look at the bare and cold battlefield underneath the haunting night sky. The doctors presumptions of only fifteen minutes of fighting also haunts me, Shishio was not comfortable with the doctors proclamation, but, if only for my sake, he agreed to allow me to watch the time. Now that I am finally in my bedclothes I am able to sleep, but I sincerely wish with all my heart to pass the endless hours in silence, not with sleep. Yet, to only obey Shishio's orders, I make an attempt to shut my eyes underneath silken sheets.  
  
End Chapter One. 


	2. The Moments that Matter

This while it isn't a lime or lemon, could be offenseive read at your own worry Fading Dreams: The moments that matter  
  
~Yumi's P.O.V~  
  
From my rice mat the latticed window, with sheer curtains covering the glass, fails to block out the starlight. For with my eyes, clouded by confusion, I can still trace the faint area of light created by each celestial being. This gives me some comfort, but does not set my troubled soul at ease. My soul is forever turbulent; as long as can remember it has never seen true solace. Some element of my life has remained out of place, and unknown to my soul. Such privation of peace hurts, but can be overcome by simple discipline. That is one of the many lessons Lord Shishio has taught me, and through my tragedies I have learned.  
  
Tonight, it seems, no matter how hard I try, sleep will not come. I am too worried to rest, to even shut my eyes. I feel as if any minute Shishio, my beloved Shishio, will disappear from my life, like everything else has. For tomorrow, I know not what will come, will impending doom be spelled, or will Shishio prevail over Himura? I roll over stiffly in between the silk sheets, and my eyes trace the patterns on the ceiling. They contain so many paths and intricacies, which make me dizzy upon lengthy examination. Although I have near memorized them, as any diligent student would memorize Kanji, I fail to break the code that lies within them.  
  
I shift uncomfortably in my sheets again that night, frustration builds within me, and I feel it can barely be contained. But through some strength, I hold in that anxiety and frustration, and manage to suppress it with a heavily-heaved sigh. My eyes examine the stars yonder the window. Suddenly a realization strikes me, these stars clarity give me more than just mere comfort, they give me faith that Shishio will not fall to Himura, and that the fates, as cruel as they are, will never take him away from me.  
  
Another uncomfortable shift finally convinces me that my tired body will not be helped by worried sleep. I gently push aside my silken sheets and rise from my rice mat. The flawless full moon gives the lavish bedroom an eerie glow. Haunting shadows appear on the walls with gold inlay laced on the crown moldings. I bend down and lift the silk cherry-blossom yukata from the deep crimson sheets covering the rice mat and wrap the fine red silk around my slim body. While I glide to my vanity I prepare a match and light the ornate oil lamp that sheds a small amount of light upon the large room. A gleam, a brief shimmer of gold and glass catches my observant eyes as the light of the oil lamp reflects off of a present given to me by Houji from his travels in the west.  
  
He explained the bizarre object to me as a smaller kind of telescope that you could hold in your hand and still see the stars clearly. Perhaps this small mechanism would ease my troubled soul; perhaps I will employ it to examine the stars on this clear night.  
  
Out on the balcony I stand, drawing the light Yukata close to my body, attempting to keep warm. An eyelid while the other peers through the hand- held telescope covers one eye, and I examine the night sky with no real scrutiny. My eye settles on one fading star. It glimmers unsurely, dimly in the southern sky; on and off it flickers, trying so hard to make itself known under the light of the full moon.  
  
I can relate to this dwindling star, I am potent enough to be noticed in a vast sky of many, but not potent enough to exist equally with the man I adore the most. Who am I kidding, no one can ever be seen when next to my Shishio-sama's encompassing strength, darkness, and intelligence. Not even Houji, who through his meticulous management we are millionaires, and least of all me, a dignified whore until I met Shishio-sama.  
  
Then my eye spots a star shining brightly, a star that is not hidden by the bright moon, not in awe of its strength in the northern sky, that star causes great unrest in my soul. I was never a superstitious or religious woman, I was never what my mother or father called samurai. I had no concept of bushido, as they did. But no one had the concept of bushido; it had fallen, to my innermost remorse. Yet in that star I saw that one man, the Battousi, though he was smaller, he had no fear when he looked defiantly into Shishio-sama's eyes. Perhaps it was just I, but I felt that Shishio was not going to win this battle by default. Everyone else around me saw Shishio winning this small contest tomorrow with ease, but I did not, because I am a woman, and because, as so many in my generation, am not samurai. My feelings of love weakened me. If I were stronger I would not be worried, but I am weak because I worry. I remember once I was Samurai, but I was broken and also discovered I was weak.  
  
"Yumi," Shishio-sama asks me in a strangely gentle voice that takes my guard off. I gently wipe tears of regret off of my cheeks and turn around to face Shishio-Sama, "Why do you cry?" he asks me. Inside I am sent into a panic, do I admit my doubts and show Shishio-sama my weakness. I cast my eyes down and look nervously at my feet until I can muster up the courage to say what I mean to say to him. To say, I am worried the Battousi may claim your life and steal you away from me!  
  
I do not say a word; I just keep my eye to the ground, for once Shishio- sama, claim my lips! Do not make me explain myself! My own thoughts shame me. I hear the soft click of Shishio-sama's boots come toward me; he gently cups my chin and forces my eyes to meet his. I am sure he has seen my pain, my weakness. Instead of being cold and standoffish, he wraps his strong arms around me and allows me to cry, just this once, on his purple kimono.  
  
After I have finished crying, he says compassionately,  
  
"What troubles you?" Perhaps it was the compassion and love that dwelled in his voice, or my reinforced bravery, but whatever it was it gave me the strength to say,  
  
"I am afraid-" I begin, then after a deep breath reaffirm, "-that the Battousi's sword will steal you away me forever!" I latch onto his neck as hard as I can, unwilling to see the disgust on his face. To my surprise he holds onto me tighter, taken aback I leave his embrace and ask, bewildered,  
  
"You are not ashamed of my weakness?" Shishio-sama smiles gently, reminding me of another time when a man smiled to me gently and took my innocence at the same time.  
  
~ Kyoto, 1864~  
  
There I stood happily in the ornate hall, my socked feet growing cold on the smooth wood floor. Regardless of the joy rushing through my veins at the prospect of being bestowed the honor of Geisha's, my heart failed to be so thoroughly convinced that this was indeed the truth: that I was to become a geisha. For purposes he would not display to the light or ring in one's ear, Damasu-sama has not passed a geisha's honor into my hands.  
  
  
Wistfully, I set my gaze to the frosted and icy window from the snow's bite. The winding and whimsical ice crystals gracefully danced from the clouded sky above and silently fell, clinging to the cold glass of the windows. To me, the crystals seemed like real dancers, their motions so fine, and their beauty unmatched.  
  
  
"Yumi-chan?"  
I jumped slightly at the Madame's soft voice. "Hai? Nan desu ka, Madame- san?"  
  
  
"I believe this belongs to you, Yumi-chan," said she emotionless but still unable to hide a smile. From behind her back she pulled a geisha's kimono and gently placed the fine silk robe in my pale delicate arms. The kimono flowed through my fingers with water's grace and delicacy. Pale blue and lavender hues melted together so perfectly, and in shining silver thread, sakura blossoms waltzed along the grooves of fabric. It had the beauty of even the dancers in the skies and the dancers upon the earth.  
  
  
I cradled the fine silk in my arms, it was the only way I could protect what I had earned through my difficult years of training. Tears, not of grief or sadness, but of joy, brimmed my eyes. I gently set the delicate robe on a side table in the hallway and threw my arms around the Madame in a deep embrace.  
  
  
"Madame-san, arigatou gozaimasu!" I said, pulling away from the heartening embrace of the woman who had over the years become my mother. A smile danced upon my red lips, as I lifted the kimono from the table and again cradled it.   
  
I was surprised to feel a small tug and released my grasp on it though I wanted to fight for it with all my heart, to tug on the fine silk and claim what was rightfully mine. I looked once more into the trusting eyes of Damasu Kizoku.   
  
"Damasu-sama?" I asked with a whisper, my voice had become horse and wayward, lost in sudden misery and considerable shock. His eyes danced with amusement, his eyes danced at my sudden torment, as if he were enjoying my moment of confusion. Nay, his eyes were not amused, but filled with lustful desire. Those eyes were directed toward me, they bore into me and were no longer kind, but systematically cruel and calculative toward every voluptuous curve on my blessed body.  
  
  
"Madame," he scolded softly with a chuckle, "this was not yet to be relinquished into her care." Then he handed the object of my desire, the fine silk kimono to the Madame who accepted the ornate robe with reluctance painted on her face.  
  
  
The Madame sighed and rolled her dark eyes. "Hai, Damasu-san...." She turned on her heel, with a bow, and walked down the hallway. Discreetly she turned her head and I saw her gaze at me with sorrowful compassion, perhaps I would receive this later.  
  
In turn, Damasu-sama followed Madame down the hall, a thin smile upon his face and the kimono in his arms. It seems it is always winter here. I continued to look upon the ballet of the snowflakes, raging outside the window.  
  
  
Sighing, I traced the difficult patterns in my mind, and fought back tears of grief and sadness that would cloud my vision of the icy ball outside the windows of the teahouse.  
  
It was just fifteen minutes later, and I still sat despondent in the hallway, awaiting, I thought in vain, an explanation to my sudden demoting. The snowflakes continued to bedazzle my tear-filled eyes, in their now fast paced tango. Then I heard the door being slid open and saw Damasu-sama, and Madame walking into the hall from the reflection in the glass. That day I only heard bits of their conversation, but it was small chat. I had determined I would not receive an answer, and would not. Then Damasu-sama sent me a suddenly kind glance, and hope revived again within me as I walked towards him and asked,  
  
"Why can I not be called Geisha?" Damasu-sama, raised his hand to my shoulder, as he said,  
  
"This, my child, needs to be discussed in a location more private," Suddenly, he turned to Madame, and asked if we could use a room momentarily. She sent him a questioning glare I did not know how to analyze but then slid open a door, and I followed Damasu-Sama into the small room.  
  
It was then that we stood in the small, paper-walled room, and he began his compelling speech,  
  
"Yumi-chan, you are so young, just a girl of fifteen. It would be wise for you to wait till you are perhaps older, more mature. You know very well the strict rules of Geisha, would you be able to withstand the insistence of a paying customer to break those rules. I am a main supporter of this tea house in Kyoto, and I have to think of my business and influence in the newly-established government." I was taken aback, and said, almost defensively,  
  
"But, in older times young ladies of my age were married, Damasu-Sama! I am no longer a girl!" Then, I noticed something, a flash in his grin, a smolder in his soulless eyes, as he hungrily eyed my figure, as if it were his to own.  
  
Damasu-Sama politely told me to sit down, apparently there was more to hear, but he surprised me and sat down beside me, cooing seductively,  
  
"Indeed, Yumi-san, you are no longer a girl, in fact you have grown to be a fine looking woman, much like your mother before she passed." I blushed at the compliment, and was taken slightly off guard, not thinking much of what he said, for his kindness helped my mind wander from the loss of my geisha kimono.  
  
I thanked him quietly, and asked why is he so afraid to let me become what I was destined to be. Suddenly, the glint in his eye grew, and the smolder in his eyes turned into a flame, as he scooted closer yet, and brushed away a tear that had long crystallized on my cheek, and kissed the spot his finger had just brushed.  
  
I stood quickly, and grew very afraid. Damasu-Sama demanded,  
  
"Why are you afraid? Do you think I saved you from the streets because I am kind! You owe me something for that effort and it is time you pay me back Yumi!" Rage, and long withheld desire had taken him, I backed towards the bed, just seeking to get away from the demon he had become. As soon as my ankle hit the rice mat, I fell onto the bed, and now I feared for what was to become of me.  
  
Damasu-Sama loomed treacherously above, and just as treacherously, lowered himself onto me, one of his legs resting in between both of my legs. He claimed my lips in a violent kiss, guiding my head and telling me, in my inexperience what to do with one hand. While he loosened my obi with the other, it was that time I can never forget, even though I wish it to be forgotten.  
  
~Present day~  
  
"Yumi," a distant voice calls out to me, as I stood on the balcony, underneath the bright stars, recalling cold memories of a sad time. The voice appears as foggy as a swamp when the mists are blindly covering its mucky contents.  
  
"Yumi," the same distant voice says, but now it grows closer as my violent remembrance, and the momentary spell it cast on me is broken.  
  
'I know this voice, it is the voice of my beloved Shishio-Sama.' As soon as that thought graces my mind, I am out of the past and look lovingly at my lover cooing my name. His demonic, red eyes reflect a kindness I only know. There in those eyes, lies many traits, his power is seen easily, his bravery most certainly unmatched, then there is the kindness and regard he bears toward me that he does not display to anyone else, not even Soujiro. Lightly his gloved hand strokes my cheek. I relish in this touch, and tremble in impatient anticipation for what is to come. He gently wipes a tear from my cheek and kindly strokes my cheek, perfecting the location of a stray hair so it rests on behind my ear.  
  
"Yumi, do not be ashamed," Shishio says gently, seductively as he draws me closer to him and whispers teasingly into my ear, " You are the wisest woman I know. You saw what I saw in the battousi's eyes, you saw that same look of defiance. Even Houji failed to see that." My heart races, as I bury my head in his awaiting chest and say quietly,  
  
" I am weak, I doubt not in your strength, but doubt in your ability to handle the Battousi in.fifteen minutes." Weakly I resist Shishio's insistent hand on the nape of my neck, the small struggle is over and finally I meet his eyes, but I am unable to hide my shame. Shishio smiles at me, he looks amused at my fear, and jokes,  
  
"You are a woman, it is only natural," I smile weakly, for I am used to his sarcasm, but then he soothes me, as he gazes into my eyes never wavering his glance, "Yumi, you may watch the time tomorrow, and.." Suddenly he stops; I am far too anxious and blurt out,  
  
"Yes?" He glares at me momentarily then his eyes loose their malice as he draws my face toward his, gently cupping my chin with one hand, and wraps the other sensuously around my waist.  
  
"You may intercede. if you think I am in danger." He says hesitantly. In that line Shishio gives me power over him, and gives me judgment power. A small smile graces my lips, ready for what is coming, the inevitable kiss. Oh, how I've wanted this, and hungrily longed for his overabundant affection.  
  
Finally it comes, and Shishio passionately claims my lips. I am drawn, happily into his strong embrace; perfectly content for knowing that I am loved gives me all the strength I'll ever need. 


	3. Introductinary finalities

da Fading Dreams:  
  
~Yumi's POV~  
  
Underneath the glittering stars gentle and soothing night breezes wrap about me. My heart grows content as my Lord Shishio's arms draw me ever closer to his warmth. His lips continue to lovingly caress mine, sending my very soul en route to Nirvana and beyond.  
  
"Yumi," he whispers huskily into my ear, sending shivers down my spine, "I shall fulfill your desires tonight, to ease your troubled soul." I am drawn in so completely. I melt soundlessly into his warmth; my love for him has not lost its depth through the years I have been his nurse and confidant in the dark whispers of our nights as one.  
  
Suddenly, he withdraws his warmth to all regions of me but my hand, which he clasps within his own hand. I search his eyes hopefully and find what I seek. The loving desires smoldering within him.  
  
Shishio leads me into our shared room and as if the wind was his own to command the oil lamp's light is extinguished, but the door that lead to the balcony do not close. They remain open, letting the pearly gleam shining off the moon illuminate Shishio and I, the eternal lovers, in one of the greatest moments of tenderness I feel I shall ever know.  
  
Just beyond the futon we stand, Shishio's hand gingerly caresses my thin, swan-like neck. My blood warms and my yearning for him increases. Shishio's acute manslayer senses detect this jubilant frustration and a giddy grin makes his face look ever more charming to me.  
  
Shishio's hand travels up my neck and begins to loosen the blue beads that bind my often-unruly hair. A look of agitation marks his face as he finds difficulty in loosening the beads within my hair. To ease this growing anger my hand reaches his within my hair and I playfully assist Shishio in freeing my bound hair.  
  
The beads are loosened, and my hair gracefully falls onto my slender shoulders. Indulgently, Shishio, with his gloves off, begins run his hand through my soft tresses. A soft rhythm now plays hypnotically in my mind and all I see is my beloved Shishio, and all I feel is his massaging hand dance upon my scalp. My breath grows ragged and I feel as if I am loosing control of my pent up desire.  
  
With great urgency, for my own sake, and his as well, my hand seeks his, freeing it from my hair. I look into his eyes, they are still as playful as schoolboys, but I know my own are widened with incomprehensible desire. Unconsciously I massage his hand as he did my head. The boyish grin disappears with emphasis of my soft but insistent hands, and he obtains a lustful look. A desirously serious look softens Shishio's eyes; his violent side disarms to reveal an entirely different side of him.  
  
Very suddenly he pulls me close to him. I blush as I find myself caught in an impenetrable trap against his firm chest. I look up and meet Shishio's glare, and as happens to all men the beast within him takes over and with the assistance of his hand my silk yukata tumbles off my shoulders, shimmering in the pearly gleam of the moon, as it rests around my feet.  
  
Shishio again engages me in a passionate kiss, and whispers into the side of my mouth, only for me to hear,  
  
"Tonight, my love is all thrown aside. I give myself to you fully and without interruption. This blessed night is for you my love."  
  
I tremble at his huskily whispered line, but with my experience as a consort ensures I will control his desire with my tender touch. For those fifteen minutes he is limited to apply to more than just swordsmanship.  
  
Long ago our fifteen minutes were spent, and now Shishio and I stare at each other in the gleam of the moonlight. I am nuzzled like a kitten against his chest, as his hand caress' my back. To both my displeasure and ease, his body relaxes, and his hand falls from my back. Shishio's arm hangs loosely around my small frame. Night has long been settled, and the stars have all become unveiled, but still rest does not come.  
  
However, the slowly approaching dawn begins to rise. First beginning, in the tender stages of soft purples. My wearied eyes to begin to close as the gentle smell of Shishio's warm breath, deep in sleep, caress' my face, the soft feel of his bandages rub gently against my bare skin and warms my small body. My incense and blanket, his caressing breathes and bandages. My lullaby, the deep purr of his sleep, and slowly my eyelids droop.  
  
~~Kyoto, 1869~~  
  
I tread softly, and lady-like, through the ornate oak doors of the teahouse where both man and boy sat on the tatami mat. The man, Shishio Makoto, was draped in bandages of linen; they only failed to reach his mouth, and his fiery, piercing eyes. Shishio-san was owner to a most intimidating aura; one I feared would overtake me if I dare gaze into his poignant red eyes. Soujiro was quite the opposite, a small boy who lived among this world scarcely more than eight years, wore upon his face a smile. An endless, unflinching smile but he made this oddity appear so natural. Though, there was something more to this young boy, something more than the blithely grinning face that was Soujiro.  
  
My red silk kimono swishing, like wind in trees' boughs, concealed my trembling legs, the only sign of my growing fear that erupted from my very soul, the only sign of my growing fear that erupted from my very soul. My motions were now only those of my trade, in truth Shishio, a fugitive of the Meji government was like no one I had met. A crisp air of confidence veiled him as if it were a robe; his movements were sure and powerful, and his deep crimson eyes were the center of his soul, of his being. No one that I had ever seen commanded such attention, or such power from his person.  
  
Despite my fear that drowned me slowly from within, I held my head high, and I began the task thrust upon me. With a gentle smile gracing my lips, I seated myself across from Shishio and Soujiro and in spite of myself, I hoped my mask would hold strongly to my face. I hoped neither the man nor the boy could see fearful soul of mine glistening from within my sensuous eyes of my Noh mask.  
  
A smirk spread slowly across the face of Shishio-san and his eyes shone with a gleam of amusement.  
  
"Woman, tell me, what is your name? For it would be impolite to call you by a title less fine." I nearly fell faint at that moment; he showed kindness towards me, a man of such honor and power showed me, a simple consort, kindness. Swallowing my dread, I spoke slowly.  
  
"Watashi no namae wa Komagata Yumi desu." Shishio-san's chin tilted upward. He seemed surprised that my voice did not quake, or my smile break. He then looked at me differently, like I had been placed into a new light, a light of growing admiration.  
  
A sudden burst of fear spread throughout me, it struck me upon his changed demeanor, which was no longer condescending. Though this was not fear I had felt at first glance, it was the fear that had coursed through my veins when Damasu-sama had taken from me my innocence. My trust in Damasu-sama had made this possible, was I to trust this stranger, but find underneath the clean cloth wrappings that covered his burnt skin. And a soul of greed, questing for power alone, a soul and heart of stone.  
  
It was my duty to make sure my guest knew no dull moments, no matter how much I feared the guest. Madame-san had always taught me an awkward silence such as this is never acceptable. I, very distinctly, remembered her voice, as she told me when I was young and still very naïve,  
  
"Silence means you aren't doing your duty, Yumi-chan. To be a consort or a Geisha, not only the art you perform matters, but the way you converse is most important." I drew in a breath, waking myself from my pleasing reverie and asked my guest, sitting across from me,  
  
"Shishio-san, from where do you come?" I asked, as I began to pour more cha in his emptied cup. Shishio-san looked at me and said harshly,  
  
"Your concern for me is appreciated though it is wasted." There was softness to his voice, though a hard mask that could not be removed, concealed it.  
  
I could see wrought into his flaming eyes I had grown yet again in his sight, but I remained wary and uncertain. Kind men have betrayed me before and though this came with no supposedly warm smile, I still pondered the contents within Shishio-san.  
  
I winced as I allowed my tongue to fall idle and another minute of my duty was spent in awkward silence. Yet, all was not lost as Soujiro's eyes sparkled with curiosity.  
  
"Yumi-san," said he, in an attempt to end the misplaced pause ", is this what a consort does, or is there more?" I gave Soujiro a graceful smile. The young boy must have lived a sheltered life, for his mind did not contain knowledge of such a simple aspect.  
  
"Hai, this is only part of my duty as a consort. For the duty of a consort is to please those she means to serve."  
  
The young boy's mouth stretched into a weary yawn, as he nodded, at least partially understanding my statement and duty.  
  
"Shishio-san, I am very tired," Soujiro suddenly said, catching even Shishio off guard, but he nodded to the boy and presumably allowed him to rest. I led him to a futon, resting in the corner, as I tread over the floorboards, my red silk kimono swished silently. I told the boy kindly, and almost mother like,  
  
"Soujiro-chan, you may use this futon to rest on if you would like."  
  
"Doumo arigatou gozaimasu, Yumi-san. Shishio-san, oyasumi nasai " Soujiro said, rubbing his eyes. Soujiro crawled into the woolen covers. As moments passed, the slowing of his breathing announced sleep had come to him.  
  
Though time wore on, Shishio and I remained in a stifling silence, as we watched the slumbering boy. I cast a glance at Shishio, and noticed his bandages were falling loose from his very muscular frame. Regardless of the condition in his skin, he had chosen to remain active, and kept up a muscular and handsome frame. A sudden thought swept through my mind, and in the stillness I inquired,  
  
"Shishio-san, is Soujiro your son?" Amusement flickered in Shishio's fiery eyes as he showed me his true smile.  
  
"Soujiro is not my son," he began, as he met my eyes, and said with an abundant amount of pride, "I met him when he was sheltered and abused by his family but I taught the boy to survive on his own accord." A hollow chuckle emitted from Shishio's throat, as he glanced to the sleeping boy.  
  
I glanced thoughtfully at my hands and then returned my gaze to Shishio, whose power still frightened my soul.  
  
"Shishio-san," she said breathing deeply, " do you have any children?" Laughing once more, he said to me,  
  
"Iie, I have not had relations in many years." Shishio saw my face fill with a fresh and new fear, a fear of relations with him, and he said, hoping to ease my growing fear, and perhaps clarify his own intentions, "And I do not wish these relations to begin anytime soon."  
  
I looked deeply into his eyes and they glowed like burning embers in the still darkness of the teahouse room. He was a being of power, in his eyes the fear of men was inspired, and with the slightest glare, he could lead a strong force to victory, or condemn them to death. At that moment he became my greatest fear.  
  
Shishio slightly inclined his chin and narrowed his flaming eyes into my own. But he did not stare in anger; he looked at me with a soft scolding look. In that moment it came to me, I had been staring at Shishio-san, my honored and paying guest. I lowered my eyes to the floorboards once more in shame.  
  
Grasping for words, for a thing to hold up my honor and duty as a geisha, I quickly spoke to the man before me.  
  
"Would you like a cup of tea, Shishio-san, or perhaps sake?" A light of amusement flickered softly within his eyes.  
  
"Today, I prefer tea." He said very simply.  
  
"Hai, Shishio-san." I said professionally as I poured the tea into his empty cup.  
  
Suddenly, a pause, wide and pregnant, clouded the night's air whose berth was wide, and it smothered all in its path. It was then, that I set my eyes upward, but they were not alone in their path, for Shishio-san's fiery eyes met them. No longer fearing, but seeking I continued to silently gaze into his eyes, watching the fire that refused to dim. I understood in a moment's beating heart: hidden from the light was something deeper than I could have ever imagined it to be.  
  
Soujiro's soft mumbling voice called silently,  
  
"Nee, Shishio-sama? Can Yumi-san be my Okaasan?" The remarkably innocent question resounded loudly through the darkened room and my mind. Was it possible? Was I blushing?  
  
In my surprise and worry, my heart began to a race, and I spilled the tea! The warm, burning liquid inspired vile resentment within me, for I, a consort did not spill tea. My cheeks feigned a slight pink, though, in the room's darkness, any normal man could not see it, but Shishio-san was different, could he, with his acute senses read my burning face?  
  
A veil of amusement was cast about me, and in shame, I set my brilliant eyes upon my knees. I observed the perfection in the pleats of my red kimono and took a corner in between my fingers, rubbing it slightly. The cloth's silky feel brought reassurance to me, reminding me of my proud honor as a being of the heavenly willow world.  
  
I glanced upward, to Shishio-san and his satisfaction was apparent to me. Though there was something more to his face than mere contentment I saw curiosity's burning flame dancing within his eyes.  
  
"Is a consort supposed to blush?" Shishio-san asked me with a teasing not in his voice, but I could tell when I saw the fire dance in his eyes he was enjoying my vulnerable moment. The intensity of my blush increased, and I tried to tear my eyes from his gaze, but the power of his being held my eyes captive.  
  
I did not answer Shishio-san I could not find the voice to reply. Humorously, he stated,  
  
"I'll take that as no." I lowered my eyes, and grew further in my shame and humiliation. A client of mine noticed my feminine shortcomings and failure to truly ascend in the willow world. Shishio-san's acute manslayer senses noticed this and very surprisingly purred,  
  
"Do not worry, Yumi-san. I will not report this to your superiors or deduct it from your pay." And Shishio-san's gloved hand very suddenly caressed my blushing cheek; I nearly swooned from the action. How I had grown in his sight!  
  
A curious urge struck me, as I grabbed Shishio-san's hand that lay upon my cheek. Delicately, I took his larger hand within my own, and removed the glove that covered it. No longer in fear, I was compelled as I gently massaged the hand to feel the bandages alone! How awful it must be to feel not the softness of smooth skin!  
  
Yet, Shishio-sama withdrew his hand from mine, his eyes were opened wide in shock. Word proved useless in conveying what had just occurred, but my eyes spoke for me as did his. Through the silent language of eyes, we came to an accord. I reclaimed his hand, and removed the other glove. Shishio, with his free hand placed it upon my cheek. For a moment in time, we sat in this tender moment, before Shishio's hand moved from its place on my cheek, and around the back of my neck as he cradled my head. Drawing closer we finally shattered the distance and barriers between us in an understanding kiss.  
  
---You are no longer violating Yumi's brain---  
  
I waken and the birds beyond the open window twitter meaninglessly. Shivering, I lift my heavy eyelids and seek Shishio-sama, but I find that his warmth has left me. He stands on the balcony deep in thought.  
  
I feign sleep, but I am not quick enough for Shishio says,  
  
"You are finally awake." Smiling gently, I nod to Shishio and rise from the futon.  
  
"Are you prepared for this day, Yumi?" Shishio asks me as I approach him, yawning.  
  
"Hai," I reply, and then turn the question, asking,  
  
"But are you, Shishio-sama?" A sly smile is all the response that I received from him. It was then, I knew whatever occurred this day, and Shishio and I will always be together. In life or death, I will always love him.  
  
The end!  
  
Yes, its over.... WHOOAH! Review please 


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